Forbidden Fruit
by TeamJonah
Summary: A present-day girl moves into the house holding the ghost of Jonah. Jonah/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Please R&R!**

Chapter 1

Moving to a small town in Connecticut was going to suck for a New York girl like me. But my mom seemed happy about getting away from the city's craziness that I loved, so I figured I'd give it a shot.

We arrived at my new house, late that dark night. It wasn't a very long drive, but New York City was a hard place to get out of, especially in a U-Haul filled with our belongings.

Then it was just Mom and I on the open road; just us in our new house.

My dad was a jerk, and a drunk. He left before I could get the chance to meet him. Before I could hate him and be afraid that he would hurt us, like how my mom constantly felt when he was still around.

I swept my dark red hair away form my pale face, and took a glance at the huge, white house. Inside looked dark and eerie; the complete opposite of our apartment in New York.

"Jesus," I breathed. "Isn't it a bit big for just the two of us?" I looked over to my mother.

"It's cheap, has a huge yard, and is tucked away from any neighbors. It's just what we need," she responded happily, a smile on her face from ear to ear, her blue eyes glistening in the moonlight.

Yeah, I thought, what _you_ need. Not me.

"Who cares if there are some empty rooms?" she continued. It's better than a cramped apartment. Just try to give it a chance, Eva."

"Sure," I mumbled, a bit sarcastically. But the truth was, as long as she was happy, I didn't mind.

That night we left our stuff in the U-Haul, and crashed on whatever bed we could find. It was pretty comfortable, except for the occasional creaking. I imagined Mom was looking around, not able to hold in her excitement until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Weak morning light trickled into the room, exposing the light blue walls and a beautiful painting of a tree with small, colorful birds, on the far wall. I loved it, the room was perfect, and it even had a huge walk-in closet.

I sat on the bed, and pulled my iPod out of my purse and blared some of my favorite scream and metal songs.

I looked up, and the door opened just a crack. I paused the song, and listened.

"Mom?" I called slowly, my voice shaking with fear. There was no answer. I quietly got off my bed and made my way to the door. I slowly opened it, and peeked around the hall. No one was there.

"Mom?" I called, walking into the hall and down the stairs. She was at the door, struggling with her arms full of boxes.

"Morning honey," she smiled. "Can you lend me a hand, then I'll make some breakfast."

We hauled in all of our stuff from the truck, then we made Canadian bacon and omelets.

"Why don't you go get your room all organized, I'll clean up," she suggested as soon as we were done.

I went to my room and started to unpack. Soon I noticed my laptop was missing.

"Hey Mom?" I called downstairs.

I jumped when a voice behind me said "Yeah?" It was Mom, busy setting up her jewelry box on op of her bureau.

"Did you see my laptop? I'm sure I packed it."

"Did you leave it downstairs?"

I ran downstairs and started looking through the boxes, with no luck. I was about to head back upstairs when I heard a crash from the basement.

I crept down the squeaky, wooden basement stairs. I turned on the lights at the bottom of the steps and scanned the room over with my eyes. On the floor, next to a pair of closed wooden French doors, was my laptop. It looked like someone had dropped it out of a box and onto the floor. I quickly inspected it; No harm was done. I stood up facing the wooden doors, one opened just a crack. Curiosity got the best of me. I pushed open the door, it creaked slightly. The first thing I noticed were the glass bottles on the other side of the room, sitting on a high shelf. Dust coated them so much you could hardly make out what they said.

The second thing I noticed was, what looked to be, a morgue table. It was metal, and spun around 360 degrees, any way you wanted. On it were some pretty gruesome tools. Most of them had sharp ends and one looked like a larger version of an exacto knife, with a much sharper blade.

"Whoa," I breathed, as I picked up a surprisingly shiny and large knife. I saw my caramel brown eyes stare back at me. Still staring at my reflection, I saw, right behind me, a black flicker of what looked like an arm. I froze, my body and mind went completely numb.

Until there was a slam. I jumped ten feet, and dropped the knife, making a loud bang as it hit the wooden floor. I whipped around, but all that was there was air and dust. And a closed door, that I knew I left open.

Slowly I walked over to the heavy wooden doors, with a fear in me I had never experienced until now. When I went to grab the rusty door knob, it turned beneath my hand. By itself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"What's going on down here?" Mom asked, a suspicious look on her face.

"Uhm, I just thought I'd check it out," I lied. I knew that if I told her the truth, she'd think I was crazy.

She looked behind me. "Oka- what is this?" She wandered towards the tools I had just been inspecting. "Is this a morgue?"

"I-I think so," I stammered.

"Jesus Christ," she examined the room. "This is why the rent was that cheap." She paused. "Come on, let's go back upstairs and just…forget about this."

The next day a deadbolt was put on the mortuary's door. Sure it was creepy and all, but it was also really interesting. I guess it was something about a fifteen year old girl and a more than creepy house, with an eerie past.

Over the next few days I was busy helping Mom fill out paper work for transferring schools, we only had a few weeks left before school started; It was the second week of August.

During whatever free time I had, I was outside soaking up the warn sun before crisp winter air overtook the warmth.

On one of my longer walks, I stumbled across quite a large cemetery. I soon lost tome, concentrating only on the sadness engulfing me. For such a large cemetery, I was surprised to see I was alone; Well, in one sense anyway.

At twilight I started to head back home, only just realizing how late it was.

"Where were you?" demanded my frantic mother, the second I walked in the door. Her slightly graying, light blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She was dressed in striped pajama pants, and had on her favorite fuzzy, green robe.

"I was down at the cemetery. I lost track of time," I quietly responded.

"Why were you down there?" She gave me a stern look. "Oh, never mind. Just make sure it doesn't happen again, okay?"

I nodded, noticing it was nearly ten.

"Well, goodnight," she said promptly, walking upstairs, to her bedroom.

"'Night," I mumbled, sitting down on an armchair in the living room.

_SLAM!_

"What the _hell_ was that?" I whispered to myself, wandering into the kitchen, and to the doorway which led to the source of the noise. The basement.

I creaked the door open, light pouring onto the stairs that led downward.

I stood there for what seemed like forever, slightly shaking, deciding whether or not I was brave enough to go down into the pitch-black, cold and lonely underground.

I took one hesitant step, the wood squeaking loudly in the quietness. At the bottom of the stairs, I felt for the light switch, seeing very little, with only the dim light from the kitchen

When I found the switch and flicked it up, no light came on. I flicked the switch a couple more times, still no light. I grabbed my cell phone, using the light to find the source of the slamming noise.

Then something caught my attention. The wooden doors were open, the same ones with the locked deadbolt. Except it wasn't locked.

Now I was starting to wonder what _really_ went on with this house. What _is_ going on with this house,

My better judgment was screaming at me to get out, but I shut it up by telling it to stop being a coward.

For the second time now, I walked into the morgue, not exactly knowing what to expect.

I flashed my phone's light around, not seeing anything at first. But when I did, a loud and shrill scream escaped my lips. On the mortuary table was a pale white corpse, with dark red words embedded in his skin. His dull eyes were wide open and lifeless.

Then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

_I woke up, my mind blank of everything before I fainted. Moonlight shone brightly into my uncurtained windows. Creaking noises seemed to be ricocheting off the walls, but I was to tired to care._

_Sleep was easy, morning was tough, especially when I started to recollect what happened. The open door, the morgue, the corpse, those eyes._

_But what is it was just a dream? There was no way the lock could have just unlocked_ by itself, and I knew my mom wouldn't go down there. Even if she did, she would've made sure the dead bolt was locked. So, that's all it was, just some stupid nightmare.

Downstairs, in the kitchen her mom sat at the table, drinking a cup of black coffee, a stressful look on her face. Her hair was in knots.

When I walked in she looked up, her eyes meeting mine. "Are you feeling okay?" there was a crease between her brows.

Confused, I responded, "Uhm, yeah." I sat down, the crease between my brows now.

Was it…? I thought. No it couldn't be. It was just a dream.

"Okay," she practically whispered.

An awkward silence lasted a couple of moments.

Mom put her hands on the table. "Honey, I don't understand…."

"Don't understand what?" I demanded, still in denial that any of it was true.

"I don't understand why, or _how_ you got into the morgue last night."

"I-I wasn't." Or was I? My voice started to shake, along with the rest of my body.

"You don't remember?" she gave me a questioning look.

I shook my head.

"Last night, I couldn't sleep, and I didn't hear you walk upstairs, so I peeked into your room, and you weren't there. I thought maybe you feel asleep on the couch. It was pretty, around one, and I started to loose my mind when you weren't in the living room.

"When I decided to search the basement, the wooden doors were open, and you were on the floor, unconscious."

Now I was panicking, This _wasn't_ a dream, it had actually happened. And I was unconscious in the morgue for _three_ hours. And hadn't she seen the corpse just laying there?

"What were you doing down there? And how did you unlock the deadbolt?"

"I, err, I…." I stuffed my shoes on my feet and flew out the door, barely noticing that my mom was calling after me. A thousand questions buzzed around my head as I practically ran to the sidewalk.

When I got to the cemetery, I collapsed, tears escaping from my eyes. I was by a weeping willow trunk, the leaves and stems concealing me from the rest of the rest of the world.

How were the doors open? What was making that slamming noise in the basement? How did my laptop get down there that first day? And why did I even go into the morgue, both times?

As many questions as I had, there were no answers. In my confusion, the tears kept flowing.

I felt abandoned; I had no where to run, no where to go. And I couldn't face my mom after I had just ran out, and especially when I had no answers for her. But because of this, I also felt pathetic. So I laid my head, and wept myself to sleep.

It was still daylight when I dragged myself up from the weeping willow. I checked my ever present cell phone. Eight missed calls from Mom. Crap.

I ran my fingers through my matted hair, and wiped the remaining tears off my face.

Halfway home my phone vibrated in my back pocket; it was Mom. Big surprise there.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Eva? Where are you?"

"Uhm, about ten minutes away, on Fort Covington St." I had taken this route to the cemetery enough to know the names of the streets.

"okay. I'm worried about you. Please explain what's going on when you get here. We're going to have a serious talk."

"I will," Although I _couldn't_ explain anything she wanted to know.

"Alright, Eva. I love you."

"Love you too." I snapped the phone shut, wondering what I was going to tell her.

Oh, I imagined telling her, my laptop was in the basement, without anyone putting it there, and when the doors mysteriously opened, I strolled into the morgue. And last night, before I fainted, I heard those same doors slam shut, and went to investigate. The deadbolt was unlocked, the doors open. And laying on the mortician's table, was an open-eyed, scarred corpse.

_That_ was going to go over smoothly.

A/D: Ok, so this chapter wasn't that great, but the next one should be up in the next week.


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